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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103087">i'm a little drunk (and i miss you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/happythehardway93/pseuds/happythehardway93'>happythehardway93</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Drunk Texting, Eventual Reconciliation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Praise Kink, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, No Pregnancy, Pining, Vomit, dealing with a breakup, honestly not healthy but working on it, i'm sorry but i couldn't avoid that, mention of parental death, unhealthy dependency on alcohol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:47:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/happythehardway93/pseuds/happythehardway93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been broken up for three months. Their chance at a happily ever after ruined. And yet, they keep stumbling back into bed with one another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In which we find out the author listens to too much depressing music while writing. This little idea wouldn't leave my brain and if I'm crying over them, then I think you should cry with me.</p><p>Tags are set with what I know so far and will be updated as we go. Please do not hesitate to reach out if you feel I haven't tagged something correctly, I am more then willing to fix and/or add!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><hr/>
<p>The room was a mess. Discarded clothes scattered around, a pile of books knocked over, the pillows carelessly tossed off the bed. The only sound in the room was the rustling of sheets, the heavy panting of their breaths, and the slapping of skin. </p>
<p>Ben set a steady pace, weight balanced on his elbows as he nibbled lightly at her ear the way he knew would make her keen. The mewls of satisfaction continued to grow louder, Rey arms gripping his hips tightly, urging him to increase the pace as each thrust landed harder than the one before. His hand snuck between them, circling her clit lightly the way he knew would cause her to whimper with need, the way he knew it would cause her to beg him for more. </p>
<p>“Ben,” she begged, shifting her hips ever so slightly, trying to take even more of him in, if possible. “Fuck, please.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he panted in her neck, mouthing at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. His pace increased slightly, his completion cresting over the hill.</p>
<p>“Oh god,” she moaned as she dug her nails into his back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Fuck. There. Right there, Ben!”</p>
<p>The frantic need to get her to her release, to ensure she enjoyed this just as much as he was intensified. The carnal need to hear his name on her lips, to feel her wanton need for him helped spur him on. His hips moved in a frenzy as he gnawed at her ear, listening to her breath hitch with each hard thrust. </p>
<p>“Rey, are you close,?” he whispered as he drove in, pushing her closer to her oblivion. </p>
<p>Her nails dug into his hips, her head nodding frantically as her breathing increased. </p>
<p>“Ben, please,” she begged.</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” he said, shifting his hand to add more pressure to her clit. “I feel it too.”</p>
<p>Her answering moan was enough for him. The bed creaked the rougher he got as Rey filled the room with incoherent ramblings of <em>yes </em>and <em> fuck </em> and <em>please </em>as her walls began to flutter around his cock.</p>
<p>“Let go,” he whispered, his pace slightly erratic as he chased his completion.</p>
<p>She cried out, an animalistic sound of ecstasy as her cunt spasmed around him, helping to pull him under too. He pumped one, two, three more times before erupting into her, his lips smashing with hers harshly as she milked his seed from him. Their teeth clanged with the roughness of their kiss, both fighting for control of one other as they panted into each other’s mouths, drunk on the taste and feeling of power it brought.</p>
<p>He pulled away from their kiss reluctantly, knowing air was very much needed. He caressed her head gently as he watched her slowly opening her eyes to stare up at him, her walls fluttering softly as she came down from her high. He eyed her carefully, mouth opening and closing as he thought of something to say, anything really. </p>
<p>He was never good at this part, though. He never knew what to say. He wanted to mumble how <em>good </em>she was for him or whisper <em> I love you </em>after their shared passion, but he could never find the courage. Not now at least. Instead, he usually ended up fumbling for words like an idiot, usually uttering something ridiculous like <em>that was fun </em>or <em>you did good</em>. Who the fuck says that after sex?</p>
<p>But Rey decided for him, her expression closing off as she pushed him away, forcing him to pull out. She didn’t want to hear from him. </p>
<p>They both rolled apart, limbs untangling as they settled on their respective sides of the bed, both staring up at the ceiling. As they caught their breath, both reeling over what had transpired, Ben had a hard time regretting it at the moment. At least right now, tomorrow would be a whole other story.</p>
<p>“Just be gone before I wake up,” Rey whispered, hopping out of bed to pad to the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he responded a slight pang in his chest at the coldness of her words. </p>
<p>It had been three months. Three months since they had broken up. A disagreement had taken a turn for the worse, an argument they hadn’t been able to recover from. </p>
<p>She meant well, she really had. But he hadn’t seen it that way at the time. He’d been too caught up in his own feelings to give her the time of day. What was between him and his uncle was his business. Family business. What did she know about family anyway?</p>
<p>He knew he had fucked up. He had known it the moment it was out of his mouth, the god-awful comment about her coming from nothing, how she couldn’t possibly understand the pain of being betrayed by someone who is supposed to be family. But he was a stubborn arse who didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to bruise his ego and just admit he was wrong. So he walked out. Gave her back her key, packed up the belongings that had migrated to her place, and left. Out of her life for good. </p>
<p>Or so he thought. </p>
<p>The first week after the break up was fine. He found a new routine that worked for him. He woke up early to get to the gym before work. He’d pick up his morning coffee from the cafe down the street, the one with Rey’s favorite treats, before making his way to the office. He tried not to think of her too much when he was there; he just really liked their coffee (is what he told himself). </p>
<p>He spent many nights working overtime, trying to get ahead on files. The more immersed in work he was, the less time he had to sit around and figure out how to fill his time, less time to mourn his loss. He’d then pick up dinner on the way home before crashing, exhausted by the end of the day. </p>
<p>By the end of the second week, he thought he was good. He was well immersed in his new routine, he didn’t have time to think about her. He was over her. They’d only been together for a few months, so there was no reason for him to still be hung up on her. He was tough, a fighter. He could reign in his feelings for the girl, she didn’t matter. She meant nothing. She was nothing. </p>
<p>But she wasn’t nothing. Not to him. She could never be nothing to him, no matter what he did to try and trick his mind. No matter how hard he tried to exhaust himself, he could no longer come home and pass out from exhaustion. His quiet nights were spent tossing and turning, replaying their argument and the timeline of their relationship over in a loop. Because it was his fault, after all. <em> Of course </em> she knew about the trials and tribulations of family. Hers had left her, abandoned her. They’d left her to fend for herself. Of all people, she understood. She could relate. But he pushed her away. </p>
<p>And that’s how <em>this </em>had started, whatever you could call this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d been at the bar trying to drown out his sorrows before heading home. Sleep had been difficult, the drinking had helped that. After one too many, he had stumbled home. Home to her place, that is. She had let him in, worried more for the repercussions of leaving him yelling out on her front porch to possibly wake her neighbors. One thing had led to another that night, resulting in him waking up in her bed the next morning, naked as the day he was born. </p>
<p>It had been two months since that first indiscretion, but he couldn’t tell you how many times it had happened since. He tried not to keep a tally in his mind, but he could tell you he never went more than three nights without her. </p>
<p>Sometimes he’d message her, asking if she was okay and if he could come over to see her. Rarely she’d call him, telling him to hurry before she changed her mind. Most times though it was him stumbling to her front door, much like that first night. He would stand there begging for one more night, one more go to sate his need. She would initially refuse before he’d get louder, resulting in her letting him in and assuring him that she was done with him, with them, but agreeing to scratch the itch one last time. </p>
<p>It was a lie. </p>
<p>He knew that. She was just as stubborn as he was, after all. But that didn’t stop it from happening, no matter what she said before they made it to her bed. No matter what she said when she would ultimately roll away from his grasp. No matter what, he knew she wasn’t over him, just like she knew he wasn’t over him.</p>
<p>He just hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet.</p>
<p>She was intoxicating, like a drug he couldn’t quit. He was addicted to the way her body fit against his, the sounds he could rouse as he thrust into her. The heat of her passage called to him, like a siren on a stormy night. Her powers were undeniable, the way she could coax the beast inside of him, leaving him breathless and in wonder. It was a feeling he couldn't bear to leave, would do anything to keep, regardless of what he would lose in the process. </p>
<p>That’s why he couldn’t fully walk away. Because even this, whatever you could call it, was better than having nothing at all. In some weird, twisted way, he could still believe that she was his. He could pretend that he hadn’t ruined their shot at a happy ever after and just be with her. So, he showed up without fail. Because even a few days without her in his arms was too unbearable. He would take what he could get. </p>
<p>Sometimes it’d be quick and to the point, both of them rolling away quickly as their orgasms subsided. Other times they’d be up all night, never wanting to be the one to put in the towel. Without fail, when they would finally part, she’d whisper the final blow, the ‘<em> you need to leave’</em>, and his world would inevitably come crashing down again. He’d assure her he'd leave before rolling away, succumbing to his inner monologue over how fucked up this was and how much of a failure he was for not being able to admit he was wrong. Every morning, before the sun rose and before Rey would wake, he would quietly gather his clothes, dressing quickly before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. </p>
<p>“I miss you. I’m sorry,” he’d murmur before making his exit, knowing very well he’d be back within the next few days. </p>
<p>He hated this routine, he really did. He hated the self-loathing, the pang in his chest every morning when he’d walk out. He had no one to blame but himself, though. They were in this mess because of him, this constant back-and-forth, this never moving on because he wanted her, he craved her, but couldn’t bring himself to apologize, to admit he was wrong. He was a monster, but he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. </p>
<p>Tonight had started like most. Work was crappy, as was the norm. He’d stumbled into the bar a little after 8 pm, shoulders hanging down in defeat. Snoke had been piling even more cases onto his workload. He said it was because he appreciated his work, but he knew he was being watched. He knew that Snoke was worried he would walk away from the firm, an idea that sounded better with each day that passed.</p>
<p>Each beer he drank helped him to mull the idea over, to consider what he would lose if he walked away from First Order and Snoke. At one point, he would have felt as if he was losing everything. He had built his whole identity around his job, around what Snoke had made him. But now? He wasn’t too sure.</p>
<p>He had lost count of his drinks by the time his phone flashed up, her name across the screen. He was out the door in an instant, making it to her place in record time. She let him in on the first knock. She was on him before he could get a word out, which was normal. <em> Less talking, more doing, </em> she had once said. It made it all the more difficult to figure out how to fix this, how to apologize if he knew she didn’t want to hear it. </p>
<p>The sound of the tap in the bathroom shook him from his thoughts as she padded across the floor, slipping into the bed with her back turned to him. He listened to her breathing, too fast for her to be asleep yet, as he worried about what was going on through her head. Did she hate herself for letting him back in just as much as he hated himself for constantly putting her in this situation? </p>
<p>“Rey, I–”</p>
<p>“Go to sleep or leave, Ben. We’re not talking about this,” she mumbled, pulling the covers up around her shoulders. </p>
<p>He huffed, fist-clenching the sheets in anger. “Fine.”</p>
<p>He glared up at the ceiling as Rey settled into the bed, back turned towards him. <em> Less talking, more doing</em>, he thought. God, he hated that phrase, yet had no idea what to do. Fixing this mean talking, the one thing she was vehemently against, it seemed. </p>
<p>“That was the last time,” she mumbled, back still turned to him. </p>
<p>“Sure it was,” he huffed, rubbing his hand across his face. </p>
<p>It was always the last time. They both knew this couldn’t last, that it wasn’t healthy for either of them. But it didn’t stop him from showing up each time, it didn’t stop her from letting him in, from allowing him to continue to be in her life, no matter the circumstances. He couldn't stand it, but he didn’t know how to stop. He couldn’t stop. </p>
<p>“I mean it this time,” she argued. </p>
<p>“I know you do.”</p>
<p>She turned toward him, face illuminated in the moonlight seeping through the curtains. “I do. I really do,” she insisted.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know. Just like last time was the last time, and the time before that, and the time–”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” she seethed, sitting up to face him better. “Fuck you, Ben Solo.”</p>
<p>“Last I checked, you already did,” he countered snarkily, leaning over to turn on the light.</p>
<p>Sheets pulled up to her chest, her anger radiated in waves. Her brown eyes shined with rage, jaw clenched tightly as she trembled slightly. She was moments away from an outburst. <em> Good</em>, Ben thought, <em> she should be mad at me</em>.</p>
<p>“Get out.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I mean it, Ben. Get out.”</p>
<p>“I mean it too, Rey.” he countered, sitting up to face her properly. “We need to talk.”</p>
<p>“We’re not talking about this,” she sputtered.</p>
<p>“Ever? Because this can’t keep happening.”</p>
<p>“What can’t keep happening? You showing up on my doorstep every few days? Because last I checked, that’s not my doing, that’s on you.”</p>
<p>“Last I checked, you texted me tonight, so don’t be all on your high horse. You are also to blame,” he argued.</p>
<p>“Well, it was a fucking mistake, that’s for sure,” she mumbled.</p>
<p>“If you hate this so much, then why the fuck do you keep letting me in?”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter!”</p>
<p>“The hell it does! Maybe I keep showing up because I know you’ll let me in, I know you’re just as desperate as I am for this not to end–”</p>
<p>“Shut up! Stop spewing lies like it’s going to fix anything!”</p>
<p>“What am I lying about?”</p>
<p>“I’m not desperate!” she cried out, a look of worry on her face.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I’m not desperate! I don’t need you for a good lay anymore, I can fuck anyone I want. I don’t need you.”</p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant, I–”</p>
<p>“I don’t care what you meant!”</p>
<p>“Oh really? Is that why you were quick to interrupt me? Because you don’t care?”</p>
<p>“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she cried out.</p>
<p>“Well stop intentionally misinterpreting mine.”</p>
<p>She seethed, throwing the blankets back before surging out of bed. She quickly began gathering his clothes, throwing them back to him. “I’m not misinterpreting anything. You’re using me and I’m done. Get the fuck out of my life, Ben.”</p>
<p>“Rey–”</p>
<p>“I said get out.”</p>
<p>He sat still for a moment, staring at her beautiful face. Her hair was messy, locks framing her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you are.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’re not done with me.”</p>
<p>“I am. I mean it this time” she mumbled.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said defiantly, hands on her hips as she glared at him. </p>
<p>He sighed, burying his hands in his face as he gathered his courage. This was his last chance. There was so much he wanted to say, so many words he could throw right back at her. The words he needed to say, the <em> I’m sorry </em> and <em> I know I fucked up </em> and the <em> I still love you, </em>were sitting on the edge of his tongue. But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t let them out the moment he needed to the most. </p>
<p>It didn’t really matter if he didn’t believe her at this point. They could argue about that over and over and over again but what would it accomplish? Even if he admitted his defeat, admitted his love, would they even mean anything to her anymore? Or would she think he was just spewing bullshit to get into her pants again, to keep her close?</p>
<p>He fucked up. He understood that now. And he had to finally come to terms with it. He had to let her go.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he sighed, slowly shifting up to redress. He moved slowly, taking his time with each item as Rey watched on, arms crossed in a defiant pose. Her eyes never left his form as he redressed, wary of the scrutiny of her hard glare. </p>
<p>As he fiddled with the final button of his shirt, grabbing onto his discarded jacked, he turned back to her with a defeated look upon his face, his heart heavy with the weight of what he needed to do. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Rey.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I know. You’re sorry I won’t be around for an easy lay anymore,” she lashed out.</p>
<p>“That’s not why I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?”</p>
<p>“Really,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for everything. For stumbling back into your life like this, for breaking us apart to start with. It was my fault, I broke us. And I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>She stood silently, mouth gaping slightly at his confession before she steeled her reaction, closing off her reaction to him.</p>
<p>“Sure. Whatever you say.”</p>
<p>He huffed, taking a glance around the rest of her room for anything he might have left. He knew he had everything, he just wanted to delay his departure, give her more time to react. But she didn’t. So, he shoved his hands in his pockets, approaching her slowly. She didn’t move an inch, but kept her cool gaze on him as he approached.</p>
<p>“I miss you. I’m sorry,” he whispered softly before leaning in, placing a slow kiss on her forehead. </p>
<p>He pulled away slowly, looking for any indication from her that it meant something, that she didn’t want him to leave. He wanted her to accept his apology, to let him stay. But all he got was her hard glare, her fiery resolve that no, it was not okay, he was not forgiven.</p>
<p><em> I guess we’re really done this time</em>, he thought as he made his way out of her room. </p>
<p>He moved quickly down the hall, his loud footsteps echoing throughout the house. If he had listened closely, he would have heard her soft sobs as he barreled out onto the porch. But he didn’t. He was too busy thinking over his mistakes, his frustration about never being enough for her, never knowing the right thing to say when it mattered. Walking away was what he could do, and so he did it. </p>
<p>He did it for the last time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It was the last time.</p><p>Yes, she had said it many times before, but really, this was it. She meant it this time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>These two just won't leave my brain. Thank you for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the last time.</p><p>Yes, she had said it many times before, but really, this was it. She meant it this time. </p><p>She knew she had let it go on for too long. She had let herself get caught up in the feeling of being with him, of still considering him hers, that she couldn’t tell if it was just a dream or some figment of her imagination.</p><p>Because truthfully, she missed him too. </p><p>She missed the way his smell surrounded her, filled her senses completely. She missed the way she fit in his arms, how he held her tight like he’d never let her go, like she was the best thing that ever happened to him. She missed the way he made her feel, when she was around him, under him, consuming him. The way he could make her fall apart around him with a slight tilt of his hips, how he had wrecked her for any other man. </p><p>But most of all, she missed the way that he looked at her. Like she was precious and worth holding onto, like someone he wanted to see and experience the world with. He looked at her like she was the bright spot in his day, like he knew that as long as he was with her, everything would be okay.</p><p>He looked at her like he loved her. And Rey didn’t think she’d ever experience that again.</p><p>She had never had anyone love her before. But with him, it felt a lot like what she had imagined love to be like. It was the feeling dreamed of as a little girl when she would sit and wonder why she had been abandoned by the people who should have been programmed to love her unconditionally, wondering if she’d ever know what love felt like in real life. </p><p>It was that love feeling she missed the most. Craved it really. Which is why it probably felt impossible to just let him go. </p><p>The first time he crawled back into her life, she tried to reason it as a mistake. He was drunk, spouting off about needing her, wanting to taste her one last time. Truthfully, she didn’t really know what she wanted at the time. She thought if she let him speak his mind he would get it out of his system, that way she could ease her mind and remember she made the right choice kicking him out. She could stick to her guns about telling him there couldn’t be a we anymore.</p><p>But he was sweet and kind and looked at her like he couldn’t believe that she was real. And she fell for it again. Just one look and she was swept up in him again. That feeling of love she craved was within her grasp, so she chased after it like her life depending on it. </p><p>She could remember that night like it was yesterday. As she rode him that first night, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t real, that nothing was wrong between them because who wanted to think about that when he was filling her so well? Who wanted to think of their tainted past when he knew how to read her so well? When he knew her better than she knew herself? It was easier to live in the lie, the fairytale they were creating for the night then to think about their reality.</p><p>She had found a steady rhythm that they both enjoyed, her hands splayed on his shoulders for support. He would pepper her with kisses and mumble how good she was, how well she took him, and <em>god</em>, if that wasn’t so hot, so in tune with what she needed, she would have told him to shut up. But it was what she needed, the constant feedback that she was just what he wanted, what he <em> needed </em> too that would send her over the edge. </p><p>His hands dug into her hips tighter, helping to angle her just right so he could hit that spot. Her words became jumbled as she neared that edge, a mess of <em> fuck </em> and <em>right there </em>and <em> Ben! </em>slipping out in a rush as her arms tightened around him, trying to bring him impossibly closer to her. </p><p>“What do you need?” he uttered. “Tell me what you need.”</p><p>“I need you. <em> Fuck</em>, I need you, Ben.”</p><p>He flipped them over easily, placing both of her legs over his shoulders as he thrust into her hard, bottoming out with every thrust. Her soft mewls filled the room as kept up his praise, his constant assurance that she was <em>good, so good for him </em>as he helped her towards her chase after her impending orgasm. His final words, the encouragement to <em>let go </em>was all she needed to be thrust over the edge.</p><p>He pumped into her frantically as the waves of her orgasm washed over her, chasing his own high. It was everything. The feeling of being in his arms again, feeling like she was the only thing that mattered to him. The feeling of him being just as affected as she was by his touch, by being one with one another for a moment. It was like nothing else mattered but this moment, being here together as one. They could live in their fantasy world as long as they were like this.</p><p>But as she rolled away from him and stared at the ceiling, her shame and self-doubt took over. It was a mistake, it couldn’t happen again. If they hadn’t been able to make it work before, there was no way it could work this time. There was no reason to doubt that, after the brutal crash and burn they’d already been through. But when she turned to him to tell him so, he had already passed out.</p><p>She had always loved how he looked when he slept. His usual carefully controlled expression was relaxed and content, his true feelings showing without worry. She couldn’t ruin that, not now. So she brushed his hair away and placed a light kiss on his cheek before burrowing into his chest. </p><p>One night. She would give herself one more night. </p><p>She was awake before him, sitting across the room by the door. She watched as he rose slowly, confusion evident across his face as he glanced around the room, trying to piece together the mystery that was him being drunk and her being weak. His eyes softened as they landed on her, a small, hopeful smile appearing on his face.</p><p>“Hi,” he said softly, leaning back against the headboard. </p><p>She sighed, angry that she had to do this again. Mad that she even let it get this far in the first place, knowing all too well that only she was to blame for their awful demise in the first place, bringing up things she knew would push him away, would make him hate her like she was the villain in his story. </p><p>“This was a one-time thing, Ben. It can’t happen again.”</p><p>His face fell as he processed his words, sleep still clear in his eyes as he processed her words, as he meddled through the reality of their situation. </p><p>“Oh. I–um. I guess I–”</p><p>“It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you in.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Her heart broke as he spoke, as she watched his face fall. It was the same look of defeat from when she first kicked him out when she first thought their story was over. He looked like his world was crashing down before him, like a lost kid trying to find his way. But she couldn’t feel sorry for him. She had to stay strong. She’d made her bed, and now she had to lie in it. </p><p>He left shortly after that. He redressed slowly as she watched from her perch, his eyes glancing back to her every few moments. He tried to talk a few times, but she shut that down, knowing she’d end up begging him to stay if she let him. She still wanted him to stay, even without hearing the words he seemed to want to say. </p><p>But she had to be strong. She needed to learn that people left, and that was life. She needed to learn to let go. Because life doesn’t ever go the way you want, no matter how much you wish for it to be so. </p><p>That didn’t stop her from missing him, wishing he could be there with her. Late at night she’d toss and turn, thinking of what could have happened if she had just shut her mouth. Would they have been able to make something work for a while, or was their demise already written in the stars? She was used to people leaving, after all. </p><p>He showed up again three nights later. He was drunk, much like she was that time. He was spouting off words like <em> I need you </em>and <em> I miss you </em>and <em>you’re so good for me</em>. So, despite her brain yelling at her to stop falling for this again, she let him in, swearing it would be the last time. </p><p>It was a lie. They both knew it. </p><p>Most nights were the same, him stumbling up her steps slightly tipsy, begging her for another go. She’d tell him it was the last time before they’d stumble to her room, clothes strewn about in a rush to have skin against skin, to feel one another again. On occasion, after one too many drinks herself, she’d text him. He’d be on her doorstep within a half-hour, every time. </p><p>She didn’t particularly like telling him she wanted him gone before she woke, though. In her mind, it was necessary, but it didn’t make it any easier. Her initial intention was so that she’d never have to see him leave again, never have to watch him walk out of her life for the last time. Repeatedly, it seems, by their current track record. She did it to protect herself as she tried to work up the courage to say no, to stop letting him have the ability to break her over and over and over again. </p><p>But she did let him in, and she was always awake when he left. She just never let him know it.</p><p>She couldn’t remember when he started it; the soft kiss on her forehead, the whispered apology before he walked out. She knew he had no intention of telling her when he thought she was conscious. Words had never been his strong point when they were together. It didn’t help that she never let him speak unless they were having sex, which was hardly the best time to comprehend any feelings other than pleasure. </p><p>His whispered apology was a cop-out, one that she forced by never letting him speak when we wanted to, shutting down any conversations for fear that he’d tell her he was done with this, that he didn’t need her. But she waited with bated breath to hear him say it every time, and it broke her heart just the same. </p><p>She was careful though. She would wait until he was well out the door before she’d break down, cursing his name and the fact that she still wanted him, still wanted to feel his love, even if it wasn’t real. Even if it was just for a night and she could pretend as if nothing had happened. She could pretend that he meant it, that he really did care for her. </p><p>But she knew, deep down, no matter how real that apology seemed, if he couldn't say it to her face when she was awake, she had no reason to sit around dreaming, hoping that they could be happy together again. Not everything in life could be the fairytale she had concocted in her imagination. </p><p>So she never brought it up. She let him think she was asleep and moved on. It was better if they never talked about it. Talking usually meant feelings and she couldn’t bear to get hers hurt again. Pushing him away was easy. If she refused to let the topic come up, maybe it would make it easier when they’d eventually part ways, maybe it would protect her this time around.</p><p>The funny thing is though, she didn’t think that he meant he’d actually stay away. This game of cat and mouse was done now.</p><p>Their relationship had never been perfect. They both acted fast, both passionate yet stubborn in their ways. Arguments were normal between them, threats constantly being thrown around. So the fact that he’d stayed away this time hurt. It hurt worse than the actual breakup because this was really over. She’d really pushed him away for good this time. </p><p>The days since he walked out for the last time were a blur. She was like a zombie, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. She’d wake up to make a coffee before heading to work. She’d pass by their favorite coffee shop, refusing to look in and remember the good times, the happy moments they shared inside because that would require feelings, and she couldn't deal with feelings right now. She’d put in her time at work, always refusing drinks with the gang, citing errands she needed to run or laundry that wasn’t going to do itself. She even lied about having a date. That was a dumb mistake, having to field questions about her fake date for the next few days.</p><p>But really, those nights she would go home, curling up into a ball on the couch, watching reruns of <em> How I Met Your Mother </em>while eating ice cream and drinking wine straight from the bottle. She’d spend those nights with her thumb hovered over her phone keyboard, messages like <em> Can we talk?  </em>or <em> Do you want to come over? </em> or <em> I miss you </em>typed out and ready to be sent. But she’d always delete them. She had made it clear she was done, she needed to stick to her guns.</p><p>But when she laid in bed at night, unable to fall asleep, she couldn’t help but think of him. She’d wonder how he was doing, if he was getting enough sleep, if he was working too much because of the sneaky bastard. She wondered if he was still talking with his family, mending the broken relationship from years prior. But most of all, she wondered if he missed her too. </p><p>She wrestled with the idea of reaching out again all week. She could fix this, whatever this was, and have him in her bed again, even if they weren’t <em>together </em>together, at least she’d have something. Some way to feel like she had him back. Anything was better than the silence that had settled. She could pretend like she was the type of girl worthy of his love. She could learn to be the type of girl he needed.</p><p>Tonight was another one of those nights, her thoughts swirling with questions and thoughts of being too pushy, expecting too much of him, being too needy. Would he look down on her if she reached out? Would he even want to hear from her? </p><p>The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t keep thinking it was fine to keep these feelings bottled up. So she did the only thing she could think of, grabbing her phone and sending a quick text before heading out the door. </p><p>The walk to the bar was quick, the cool air helping to clear her mind. Would it feel better to talk about these feelings instead of keeping them inside? She didn’t know, but it was worth a shot, right?</p><p>She sat at the bar, nursing her drink as she waited. </p><p>Finn knew her. He knew all about her past and her fear of never being loved. He knew about her previous failed relationships, her troubles with trusting and letting others in. He knew all of that and yet, he never let her think she wasn’t worth the struggle, that she wasn’t worthy of being loved and cherished. He knew her, even when her mind was swirling in self-doubt and confusion over figuring out where everything went wrong. Maybe he’d know how to fix this, or if it was even capable of being saved.</p><p>He plopped himself into the stool next to her before he ordered them both a drink, turning to her with a concerned look upon his face. He eyed her carefully, taking in her dark circles which were a pain to cover, her greasy hair because she couldn’t get herself out of bed in time to function like a normal human being in the mornings. He took it all in, his face softening slightly before he spoke.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Peanut?”</p><p>And so she told him everything. They hadn’t seen each other much, not since that one time she had brought Ben along, preferring not to take too much heat from her friends over her inattentive boyfriend. She told him about the fight, the <em>you’re nothing </em>comment, and how she wouldn’t know anything about family. She told him about the breakup, how she felt it was better to walk than to think she could ever change him. She told him about falling back into bed with him, about knowing it was wrong but doing it anyway because maybe that’s what she deserved, maybe that’s as good as she’d ever get it with him. She told him everything on her mind.</p><p>And he listened. He never once interrupted, letting her get all of her thoughts out at once. He nodded when she needed assurance, he grunted when he wanted to say something but stopped himself, letting her go off on tangents when he realized this is what she needed the most. She needed to be heard. </p><p>When everything was finally out in the open, she waited for his full reaction. As she fidgeted in her seat under his careful scrutiny, she went through all of his possible reactions. What if he said Ben didn’t deserve her and she needed to get over herself? Would that be the thing she needed to finally move on? Or would it be the nail in her coffin, confirming her worst fears of never being good enough?</p><p>“Well? What should I do?” she asked carefully.</p><p>He sighed. “Honestly, Rey. I can’t make this decision for you.”</p><p>“Ugh, I know that. I just–I don’t know. I can’t help feeling like I’ve made a huge mistake.”</p><p>“In what way?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Meeting him, dating him, breaking up with him. All of it.”</p><p>“You really think it was a mistake?”</p><p>“I don’t know what to think right now, honestly. It’s not like you were his biggest fan most times.”</p><p>“Peanut, I was just trying to look out for you.”</p><p>“I get that, I really do. So, what if all of it was a mistake then? Maybe I’m not programmed to be the type of girl that loves and is loved back in the romantic way.”</p><p>“Rey–”</p><p>“But it’s true Finn! Plenty of people die without love in their lives. Who’s to say that I won’t be one of them? Besides, it’s not like you need love to live.”</p><p>“True. People can get by without it. But does that really mean you’ve lived?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Rey, there’s a difference between want and need. But it doesn’t make it any less important. You need to learn to go after what you want.”</p><p>She gnawed on her bottom lip, replying softly. “What are you saying?” </p><p>“Love isn’t something you <em>need </em>to get by. You, of all people, have proven that you can scrape by by the seat of your pants and survive. But because of that, you’re only used to meeting your needs. And that’s fine, but it’s okay to chase after what you want. It’s okay to think your life would be better with someone in it, not because you need them for anything, but because you <em> want </em>them to be a part of your life.”</p><p>“But, it’s not like Ben and I are on the same page. I mean, he hasn’t come back or texted or–”</p><p>“That’s because you made it very clear to him you wanted out. Maybe you didn’t fully mean it, but if that’s all the guy is hearing, pretty soon he’s going to believe it,” he interrupted. “I know I can only hear those words before I’m out. It’s a defense mechanism.”</p><p>“What are you saying?”</p><p>“Ben came to you. He wanted to talk, he wanted to be with you in any capacity he could. He wants you in his life, whether you’ve accepted that or not. I’m not saying I like the guy, but I think there’s more to him than I know if he’s willing to keep coming back to you. It’s up to you to decide now.”</p><p>“What do I have to decide?”</p><p>“Rey, what do you want? Don’t give me the answer you think I want, tell me what <em>you </em>want,” he urged. </p><p>She hadn’t cared about what she wanted in a long time, that wasn’t important. It was about what she needed to do, what she needed in order to survive. With Ben, she thought she needed to let him go, needed to accept that he didn’t see her the same way. He had said she was nothing after all. </p><p>But she had easily jumped back into bed with him when the moment presented itself, regardless of whatever lies she would tell herself and him about that. Maybe it was just a desperate plea to be loved, she didn’t <em>need </em>him, she just liked the idea of someone loving her. </p><p>But maybe that was part of it. She didn’t need him, that was true. Even if she couldn’t admit it out loud, or without having had a bottle of wine, she <em>wanted </em>him. And not just as her fuck buddy. She needed him back fully, as her boyfriend, as her partner, as her person. She didn’t need him to survive, she could do that just fine, she was a fighter after all. But she wanted him in her life. Through the highs and the lows, she wanted him to be the one she could turn to. She wanted him to be the one she woke up to each morning. </p><p>“I want him.”</p><p>“I know,” Finn replied smugly, taking another sip of his drink. “I know you.”</p><p>“Shut up. I gotta go,” she stated. “Thank you.”</p><p>She slammed a twenty on the counter as she stood up, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I appreciate this.”</p><p>“Anytime, Peanut.”</p><p>She ran down the street, thinking of things she would do, the things she would say that wouldn’t make her seem too desperate, too up in her feelings over him not being able to just trust her and love her like she wanted. Would he want the same thing? Would he accept her apology and they could ride off into the sunset as if nothing bad had ever happened between them?</p><p>Could it really be that simple? Maybe yes, maybe no. But she needed to try. </p><p>The laughter across the street caused her to jump behind a tree, hand on her chest as she fought to catch her breath. She’d always been jumpy when she was in her head, unable to remember the things around her were real and moving. </p><p>She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart before she needed to move from her spot. She knew what she needed to do, she just needed to find the strength to do it.</p><p>But as she peered around the tree, getting ready to make her way across the street, she noticed the source of the noise and felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. There, arm in arm, was Ben, <em> her Ben</em>, walking down the street towards his place with another woman. </p><p>A pretty, petite brunette woman to be exact, who was beaming up at him like he just told her she had won the lottery. His smile matched hers, his amused chuckle matching her joyful laugh as they made their way along the road. They looked happy and at ease with one another, like they had been built for each other, like they knew each other like the back of their hands.</p><p>And that’s when it really hit. The fact that he really, truly, wasn’t hers anymore. She wasn’t anything special to him anymore. Maybe she never was, at this point. Maybe it had all been in her head the entire time. Because if he could move on this fast, she could never have been anything important to him. </p><p>The tears started before she could stop them, turning away and crouching down to hide behind the tree away from the happy couple. She would never be enough for him, and she couldn’t stop that thought from repeating on a loop as her tears continued to fall. She didn’t know how long she sat wallowing in her feelings, but the lights in his home were on, and she knew <em>she </em>must be there with him. He had moved on. Because of course he had. She told him she was done, she had pushed him away. She did this to herself.</p><p>Her walk home was a blur. One minute cars were honking at her to get off the road, the next she was in her living room with the tequila bottle in one hand, phone in the other. Her sight was blurred, from tears or her state of intoxication, she really couldn’t say. But the screen lit up the whole room as she typed, her thumbs moving fast as her mind rushed through a jumble of thoughts.</p><p>“Fuck you,” she whispered, stabbing her thumb on the send button. “Fuck you, Ben Solo,” she uttered, as the tears streamed down her face.</p><p>She needed to move on, she needed to let him go now.</p><p>Because in the end, he was right. She was nothing. Not to him. Not anymore.</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He tried to forget walking out on her for the last time, his heart breaking at the thought of never seeing her again. He tried to forget it all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE NOTE: Tags have been updated and I have put a CW at the end of the chapter for some things that happen in this chapter. </p><p>To everyone still with me, thank you! I apologize for letting this go so long, but there was a chunk I wasn't happy with that I wanted to rework before posting. Needless to say, I am working on having a fic fully done before posting. </p><p>Thank you for all the kind comments! I hope this clears up some worries from the end of the last chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tried to move on. He tried to forget about her, he really did.</p><p>But that was easier said than done.</p><p>Because at the end of the day, he had fucked up. Again. He had ruined the best thing he had ever had because he couldn’t let go of the past. He couldn’t learn to forgive his uncle. He couldn’t trust that Rey would be there to support him through it all. </p><p>He tried to forget the stupid things he said during that fight because they were all lies, and yet he’d said them anyway. He tried to forget the look on her face as he walked out on her afterward, the betrayal and hurt clear. She didn’t trust easily, didn’t let people in. But she had let him in, she had shared her deepest secrets, trusting him with her pain. And then he threw it back at her, like the monster that he was. </p><p>He tried to forget crawling back, begging for her to let him back in, if only for a night. He tried to forget the feeling of having her in his arms, of feeling like there was no other place he’d rather be. He tried to forget walking out on her for the last time, his heart breaking at the thought of never seeing her again. He tried to forget it all.</p><p>Because he didn’t need her. </p><p>But then he’d walk into their favorite coffee shop and remember her giggling in the corner as they shared a croissant, or he’d order their usual Chinese order only to be left with too much food. She was so ingrained in his mind, into his everyday life that he couldn’t shake her, no matter how hard he tried.</p><p>Work wasn’t helping. If anything, it made it worse. His distaste for his boss, on top of the bullshit he had to do, wasn’t great. Every day that passed he was closer to walking. His mother had been prodding him for the last few weeks, promising him a job at Resistance was waiting for him. He could leave Snoke if he wanted to, he had options.</p><p>But taking that job meant having to talk to his mom, which would lead to questions about Rey, and so on and so on. It was easier to let it be, for now. To grin and bear it in hopes of better times on the horizon. </p><p>Alcohol was his only vice if he was lucky. Some nights he’d drink just enough to drown out the sorrow, to let him crash into a dreamless sleep and wake up slightly hungover but overall okay. The nights when he’d try to avoid alcohol were usually spent tossing and turning, replaying that final fight over and over in his mind. </p><p>It was harder to erase the memory of walking out for the last time. Those were the nights his thumb would hover over her contact in his phone. He knew he should delete her, block her number for good measure. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Some nights he’d write out an apology, only to hover over the send button before eventually talking himself out of it. Some nights he’d be ready to press the call button, wanting to hear her voice again.</p><p>But she had said it was the last time. He needed to move on. </p><p>He felt as if he lived in a daze the weeks following what he could officially say was the last time. She made it clear he wasn’t welcome anymore, so he respected her wishes. He did his best to move on. </p><p>But maybe there was a blessing from this daze. Somehow, someway, he had managed to finally walk out on Snoke. He had finally decided he was done being Snoke’s bitch, tired of being pushed around and molded to be his successor. He could see now how manipulated he had been, how brainwashed he had been for the past few years. It was a wonder anyone had put up with him. </p><p>But he had people in his corner. He had Rey. She had tried to help him see the light, had offered him support if he wanted out. He had laughed in her face at the suggestion.</p><p>Now, he had no one to share the news with. </p><p>He sat at the bar, taking shots of tequila because he needed that buzz, that mind-numbing feeling of the alcohol taking over his system. Because the buzz calmed his mind, let him drift in the feeling of now. His sober mind would jump to thoughts of her. Her chestnut hair spread across her pillow, her mouth on his, her nails digging into his back as she urged him to move. </p><p>“Another?”</p><p>He grunted, trying to shake his thoughts. She wasn’t his anymore. He needed to forget about her. He didn’t deserve her. </p><p>But it was a bit more difficult than that. His phone was dark. He hadn’t heard from her since that last night. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Not from her, not from anyone. Because he was truly alone now. </p><p>He thought about texting her. It didn’t matter if she didn’t respond to him, he could live without it. But maybe she’d care that he finally walked away from Snoke. Maybe she’d think he was worthy of another chance because of it.</p><p>He wasn’t desperate for her, he tried to argue. He just wanted to share this with someone. </p><p>Except he was desperate. He missed her laugh anytime he touched a particular spot behind her knee, the way she’d grasp his hair between her fingers as he ate her out. He missed that thing she did with her hips when she wanted him deeper, wanted him closer to her. He missed the way she looked as she rode him, like he was the only person who could make her feel that good. All of it.</p><p>But most of all, he just missed her. He missed her lazy smiles as she’d fall asleep, sated after their tryst. The way she hated to wake up in the morning, slamming the snooze button for at least a half-hour before even contemplating moving. He missed the way she would hum to herself as she did mundane tasks, unaware of the world passing her by. He just missed her. And he didn’t know how to stop that.</p><p>“Hey, stranger. Mind if I join you?”</p><p>He jumped slightly, turning to his old friend with a shy smile, as if she could tell exactly what he was thinking about. </p><p>“Hey Rosie,” he said. Rose Tico and him went way back. Friends since they were in diapers, they had been through the wringer together. Rose had been there for him when his parents were going through their separation. He was there for Rose when her parents passed away in high school, when her sister took on the role of parent to ensure Rose would be able to finish high school with him. They had drifted in and out of each other’s lives the past few years, Rose never being a fan of his current career path. But he couldn’t help but return her smile. “It’s been a while.”</p><p>“It had, hasn’t it? How have you been?”</p><p>That was a bit of a loaded question. Truthfully, it had been a few years since they last spoke. Graduation, to be exact. Rose had never been a fan of Snoke since he took on that internship and become estranged from his family. She knew him as the quiet, geeky boy who was more worried about blending in. A lot had changed in that time. </p><p>“I’ve been… better.”</p><p>“Spill it, Solo. Last I saw you, there was a very pretty brunette on your arm.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” he asked, slightly stunned. He wasn’t exactly a ladies man back in college. There was no way she could have been alluding to anything from back then. </p><p>“It was across the room. I meant to seek you out but you two were gone before I found you.”</p><p>“When was this?”</p><p>“Six months ago. Some charity event Armie invited me to.”</p><p>“Wait, Armie? You mean Armitage?”</p><p>“That’s the one.”</p><p>“How  do you know Armie?”</p><p>“We’re dating.”</p><p>Armitage Hux was probably the biggest pain in his ass. He never liked Ben from the moment they both interned with Snoke. Ben seemed to gain favor easier than Hux, which was something Hux never let him forget. Hux seemed to have a permanent glare on him whenever Ben was around. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure if the man knew how to smile. </p><p>“Wait, what? You are way better than that guy, Rosie.”</p><p>She giggled slightly. “Still as protective as ever. Maybe you haven’t been completely corrupted.”</p><p>He chuckled. “I highly doubt that.”</p><p>He sipped at his drink, turning his attention back to the bar top. Even Hux, a no-good, ladder climbing asshole could earn the favor of someone as sweet as Rose, why did he feel so helpless?</p><p>“Tell me about her.”</p><p>He smiled softly, the smile not meeting his eyes.</p><p>“There’s not much to tell.”</p><p>“She’s not around anymore, is she?”</p><p>“I fucked it up. I’m pretty good at that, if you remember.”</p><p>“I think we have different opinions on that. But hey, I’m here. And if you remember, I’m a very good listener.”</p><p>So he told her. He told her everything he could about Snoke, his family, and most importantly, about Rey. He told her about his knee-jerk reaction to Rey’s advice about him and his family, and how he couldn’t stay away even though she had drawn the lines in the sand. He told her how he had finally been brave enough to see Snoke as the monster he had been warned about, and about the impending job offer from his mother that he wasn’t quite ready to address yet. Everyone in his life was entitled to their <em> I told you so </em>moment, but it didn’t make it any easier to admit his faults over the years. </p><p>“Hmmm,” Rose said thoughtfully, taking a sip of her drink.</p><p>“What?” Rose wasn’t ever one to keep her opinions to herself. She was always first to let her feelings known over something, regardless if it was what the other wanted to hear.</p><p>“I just want to know one thing.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“Do you love her?”</p><p>He was taken aback by her question, her bluntness in her tone. </p><p>Did he love her? It wasn’t a question he had thought about too hard. Maybe because a part of him still thought he was undeserving of her attention and wasn't a good enough man to be able to give her the life she deserved. Maybe a part of him still believed his Uncle’s words, that he was a disappointment to his family name. Maybe a part of him thought he wasn’t capable of loving anyone, considering he still hadn’t learned how to love himself.</p><p>But at the end of the day, none of that ever mattered when he was with her. She made him feel like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She made him feel like he was worthy of her attention, like he could be the man that could give her the world. She made him feel special. </p><p>Because the truth was simple. </p><p>“I do,” he said. It felt like a breath of fresh air, realizing the depth of his feelings towards her, to finally admit that she wasn’t just a fling. She was so much more to him, much like he suspected he was more to her. </p><p>“Did you tell her that?”</p><p>“Well, no,” he said glumly, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not exactly the most articulate of people,” he grumbled.</p><p>The smack could be heard from all around the bar, as Ben reached up to rub at his arm.</p><p>“What was that for?”</p><p>“Benjamin Solo, you are the absolute worst! Apparently, it was too much to hope that you would have learned something since college.”</p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>She sighed audibly, moving in her stool to fully face him. “Tell me, when she said that you should try and reconcile with your uncle, how did you feel?”</p><p>“I mean, I was angry I guess.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“She had no right to tell me how to handle my family business.” He cringed internally, hearing those words out loud. No wonder Rey had reacted so poorly to him. </p><p>“Okay, understandable. But why do you think anger was your first response?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Are you still angry with your uncle, Ben? After all this time, are you still mad at him for what he said?”</p><p>It was a flaw of his, holding onto his anger for so long. Truth was, he hadn’t been angry at his uncle for some time. He couldn't pinpoint when that had changed, but he could see his perspective now. He had been a brat back then. It had been Luke’s way of trying to save him from himself, to try and help him see the light. It had backfired, but he wasn’t angry anymore, not in the slightest.</p><p>“Well, no. Not really. Not like I was in the beginning.”</p><p>“So I ask again, why were you angry?”</p><p>“I guess I was angry because... she was right.”</p><p>“Right about what?”</p><p>“She said I needed to reach out and forgive him, that it would help me move on. I’ve known that for a while but I’ve been stubborn. He hasn’t reached out in a few years so I guess i figured he had given up. He wasn’t lying. I am a disappointment, just maybe not in the way he meant it.”</p><p>“We can agree to disagree on that point, but I still want to talk about how your first reaction was to be angry over that. You have an awful way of showing someone you love them.”</p><p>“I never said I was perfect,” he grumbled.</p><p>“Did you two ever talk about that argument? About why you reacted like that?”</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“She didn’t want to talk. Ever. Made that very clear.”</p><p>“Did you ever admit you were wrong?”</p><p>“I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”</p><p>“You mean to apologize?”</p><p>He nodded, brushing reaching up to brush his hand through his hair.</p><p>“Okay, are you ready for some tough love?”</p><p>“I have a feeling I’m going to get it whether I want it or not.”</p><p>“You would be correct,” she said, taking the last swig of her drink before launching into her speech. “Ben, to be blunt, you’ve always had a skewed view of the world. You’ve always had this idea that you are not enough, and you are wrong. I wish I could do more to help you see that. But I think Rey was trying, and maybe even succeeding for a bit.</p><p>“Love is hard. It’s not the rainbows and kissing in the rain and big romantic gestures that the movies portray. It's not a walk in the park by any means. But when they’re worth it, you need to work on it. And that means even when you’re wrong, you talk about it and work through it. How do you think she feels about everything? She tried to help you and you harped on her for, what, an ego boost? She might be beating herself up over it because of how you reacted. That's probably why she won’t talk to you about it. She’s trying to protect herself.”</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>“Maybe. But you won’t know unless you reach out and talk to her. Like, talk talk. None of that hooking up thing where you think you’re ignoring feelings, because clearly, that didn’t work out well for you.” </p><p>He chuckled. “Point taken.”</p><p>He looked up at her. This wasn’t the way he thought his evening would go, but it might just have been exactly what he needed.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry we’ve drifted, but I really appreciate this.”</p><p>She smiled brightly in return. “We’re friends for life, Benjamin. Even if you ghosted me for a few years.”</p><p>“I’m really sorry about that.”</p><p>“I know you are. Come on. Let’s get you home.”</p><p>Ben’s place was a few blocks from the bar. Rose wanted to spend the few extra moments she could, texting Armie to meet them at his place. She looped her arm around his as they slowly made their way through the empty streets, reminiscing over the times that they’d missed out on. </p><p>“I still can’t believe you and Hux are a thing.”</p><p>“Why? Didn’t think he had it in him, did you?”</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t think that guy would know a fun thing if it slapped him in the face. I don’t think he’s ever smiled before.”</p><p>Rose giggled. “Oh, he smiles alight, especially right after-”</p><p>“Oh god, please no. I don’t need to know about his sex life, thank you very much.”</p><p>The pair burst into laughter over his comment as they got to his front gate. Ben stopped in front, turning to face Rose again.</p><p>“I meant what I said earlier, Rose. I’m sorry I pushed you away all those years ago.”</p><p>“Ben, it’s okay. Really, I understand why you did it. Hell, I think I always knew you’d come crawling back anyways.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Is that so?”</p><p>“I did,” she said, lightly jabbing him in the chest to emphasize her point. “I am and always will be right. It’s amazing you haven’t learned that by now.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>Hux pulled up at that moment, waving at the pair from the safety of his car.</p><p>“I might not work with him anymore, but I don’t know if he’ll ever like me.”</p><p>“We can work on that. How about dinner next week?” Rose suggested.</p><p>“I’d like that.”</p><p>She smiled up at him, patting his arm.</p><p>“You should reach out to Rey. I think you two have a lot to discuss.”</p><p>“Yeah. You’re probably right.”</p><p>“What did I just say about being right, Solo?” she teased.</p><p>He smiled. “Goodnight, Rosie.”</p><p>“Goodnight,” she said, opening the passenger side door and hopping in.</p><p>He wandered into his house, seating himself on the couch as he thought about the past few weeks. Would this have all been easier if he had reached out? Begged her to talk instead of falling back into bed? Maybe. Actually, yes it would have. But Rose was right. He never viewed himself as someone worthy of her love. He didn’t see the point in fighting for it if he didn’t deserve it.</p><p>But he loved her. That was going to take some getting used to, but it didn’t make it any less true. But now was the little problem of getting her to talk to him, hoping that she would listen to him. Maybe she wouldn’t forgive him, and that would be fine. He’d dragged her through the mud enough times to warrant it. But he had to at least try.</p><p>He woke with a jolt, not realizing he had dozed off while thinking up a plan. He groaned, his neck protesting the slumped position he had been in. He’d deal with it in the morning though, as he stood up to make his way to his bedroom. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table, taking a quick glance to check the time.</p><p>“Fuck,” he muttered, staring at his screen. Six missed texts. All from Rey.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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  </p>
</div><p> </p><p>He made it to her place as quickly as he could, grabbing the spare key from under the plant on her porch. He barrelled inside, calling her out as he ran through the house to find her.</p><p>He found her in the bathroom, slumped in a ball by the toilet in tears. She was heaving, her sobs wracking through her whole body as he knelt down, placing his hand on her shoulder tentatively. Her eyes shot open, staring up at him.</p><p>“Ben?”</p><p>“Hi,” he said softly, reaching out to brush the tears off of her face.</p><p>“Are you—are you real?”</p><p>He smiled softly, moving his hand up to cup her cheek. “I’m real, Rey. I’m really here.”</p><p>She smiled, her tears still falling softly. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”</p><p>He acted quickly, helping her to sit up to lean over the toilet as she heaved up whatever she had that night.</p><p>“You’re okay, Rey. You’re okay,” he said, sweeping her hair back as she puked into the toilet. He rubbed small circles on the small of her back, comforting her as her sobs began in earnest, her mumbled <em> I’m sorry </em>and <em>make it stop </em>breaking his heart piece by piece. He wished there was more he could do for her to help ease the pain. But it’d have to wait for now. He could worry about it in the morning. </p><p>Once he had her cleaned up, he picked her up carefully, bringing her back to her bedroom. He eased the covers back to tuck her in, making sure her shoulders were covered too. She always complained about being cold at night.</p><p>He pushed her hair back as her eyes fluttered closed. He leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before pulling away. </p><p>“Get some sleep, Rey,” he whispered, turning to head out of the room, intent on sleeping on the couch to give her some space. But as he took a step, he felt her tugging on his wrist, forcing him to turn back.</p><p>“Please. Please don’t leave me,” she pleaded. “Stay.”</p><p>He looked down at her, smiling softly. He could do this for her. “Okay.”</p><p>She shimmied over to the other side of the bed as he eased in, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her breathing start to peter out as she relaxed into his hold, her hand coming up to tangle with his. </p><p>“Please don’t leave again,” she said softly, her grip on his hand tightening.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I promise.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content Warnings: There are brief mentions of Rose's parents passing away while they were in high school. Rey also pukes from alcohol consumption at the end of the chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ben clue's Rey into her texts, and a much needed discussion occurs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Have you ever had such a bad mental block where even stories you have drafted can't be finished? Because yes, this is what happened. I apologize for the late update, but here we are. We have made it to the end for these two.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her head was pounding, almost as if she was purposefully bashing itself against the wall. Her stomach felt queasy, yet empty at the same time. Her throat was dry, her lips dry and flaky from dehydration.</p><p>And yet, she also felt warm. Safe, even. It was the kind of heat she felt after sitting out in the sun too long, that slightly tingling feeling that heat signifies it’s time to rollover. Almost as if she was enveloped in a hug, or a cuddle even. </p><p>That thought felt odd. There hadn’t been anyone in her bed for weeks. Not since Ben.</p><p>Her mind jumped to those memories. They’d spent many lazy Saturday mornings together. Ben would joke about something, eliciting a round of giggles from her as he tugged her closer, his arm wrapped protectively around her middle. Much like the heat she was feeling now, very much like—</p><p>She abruptly opened her eyes, glancing down at the arm wrapped tightly around her. The arm that belonged to none other than Ben Solo. </p><p>Panic set in as she tried to remember her night. She met Finn late for drinks after being unable to sleep. She’d stumbled to Ben’s place in hopes of talking, maybe apologizing for kicking him out, explaining why she refused to let him talk about <em> them </em> in the hazy afterglows of their shared orgasm. She hoped they could figure out their problems, maybe be a <em> them </em>again, not just some frequent booty call because they both didn’t know how to talk about their feelings. But then she’d left because… why had she left?</p><p>Bits and pieces floated back to her, like the empty bottle of booze on her coffee table, her begging for someone (well, apparently Ben) to stay, the tears she felt like would never stop because… oh. <em> Right </em>. </p><p>Ben wasn’t alone last night, not when she was spying on him from across the street. He was with <em> her </em>, whoever she was. But that was enough. Because he had moved on.</p><p>And yet, he was here. In her bed, no less. </p><p>She sighed as she rubbed at her face, erasing the evidence of her drool. He had always made fun of her for that. He said it was cute, she thought he was weird for thinking that. </p><p>Her phone was on the bedside table. It was just barely in reach. She should be able to grab it without disturbing Ben from his slumber. But as she stretched out, he tightened his grip slightly, knocking her off her chosen path. Her phone came crashing down, landing with a loud crack on the hardwood floor.</p><p>She could feel him tense as he awoke. His grip tightening slightly before peeling back slowly from around her waist. He groaned loudly, probably running his hand through his hair. He always did this when he was waking up, ruffling up his hair even more. She always teased him about it in the morning, back when they were together. But she couldn’t do that anymore, she had no right to. </p><p><em> Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep he’ll just leave? Then we can pretend whatever happened last night never hap </em>–</p><p>“I know you’re awake, Rey,” he said, ruining her plan. “You don’t need to pretend.”</p><p>She waited a moment before pushing herself up slowly, leaning back against the headboard. Ben sat up as well, reaching over to hand her a glass of water and some pills. </p><p>“Here. You might want these.”</p><p>She took his offering, not meeting his eyes as she did. “Thank you.”</p><p>She sipped the water before placing it back down on her side before looking over at him. As predicted, his hair was a mess. She smiled softly at that, her mind jumping back to old times, back when things weren’t so complicated, back when she could run her hands through his hair without it being weird. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” he asked, breaking the calm silence that had settled between them. </p><p>“Fine. You know, considering...” she stalled off, her hands gesturing to their current predicament. </p><p>He chuckled quietly, taking a slow breath before answering. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”</p><p>An awkward silence fell between them, the tension palpable. Even when they were hate fucking, or whatever that phase was, the silence was never awkward. It was never so painful that Rey wished she was anywhere but this bed. </p><p>Ben fidgeted with his hands, his jaw clenching as if he was trying not to say anything that would make everything implode. But what was there to wreck when they weren’t anything to begin with?</p><p>“Ben, why are you here?”</p><p>She could probably figure that out herself. A quick glance at her phone would help to clue her in as to why he was here. Did she ask for a booty call? Unlikely, considering what she had seen. Did he show up knocking on her door again? Also unlikely, considering he had brought another girl home with him, considering he had moved on from them. </p><p>“You texted me,” he responded, an amused smirk on his face. </p><p>“I did?”</p><p>He chuckled darkly, no amusement on his face. “I should have known you wouldn’t remember.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. You were pretty out of it when I got here.”</p><p>She cringed, her gaze dropping to her hands on her lap. “I am sorry, though. I probably ruined your night, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Why would you think that?”</p><p>She gnawed at her bottom lip, contemplating her response. She could lie, it would almost be too easy. She could spin a story about how she assumed he was off enjoying life, considering she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. It wouldn’t be a stretch. But hadn’t she wanted to clear the air, to finally put the truth out there and maybe, just maybe, find a way to be with each other again? She needed to be truthful, both to herself and with him. Finn had made her see that. Even if it wouldn’t amount to anything, she needed to make the first step. Starting with this. </p><p>“I saw you. With her.”</p><p>“You what?” he asked, confusion evident on his face. </p><p>“Outside of your place last night. I was there, and… well, I saw you with a girl. I saw you two walking back to your place to… you know.”</p><p>“You saw that?” he asked, slightly taken aback. She watched as his face reacted to the news, a range of emotions from shock to guilt to anger before settling on confusion, all in the span of a few seconds. “Wait. Rey, why were you there?”</p><p>“I, um… well… it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”</p><p>She cursed herself internally, already breaking her promise to herself. It was so much easier to be truthful in her head. She had this picture of how the conversation would go. She could tell him she missed him, how badly she hated the past few weeks without him. But then she feared how that would make her seem weak, all of her hopes and dreams were in his hands, ready to be crushed and disappointed again. </p><p>Ben’s reaction to her words when they broke up, the real breakup not the hookup breakup as she had coined it in her head, had not been surprising. Not in the least. Their view of family differed drastically, their upbringings resulting in him being pessimistic of the future, with Rey’s hardships resulting in her inability to trust easily and freely.</p><p>They were both stubborn to a fault, unable to admit any wrongdoing, even when it was hurting them both. Could any good come of them being together? Was it worth it to put them through this pain all the time? </p><p>She sighed, resolving herself to at least apologize before shooing him off, never to reach out again. She’d block his number, his rarely used Instagram account, too. If he had found happiness, so could she. But as she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off, speaking words she never thought she’d hear again. </p><p>“It does matter, Rey. It matters to me. <em> You </em> matter to me.”</p><p>It was as if he knew the words to get to her. He knew how to shatter whatever remnants of her heart were left into even more pieces. All she ever wanted was to matter. She wanted to matter to her parents who had left her for filth on the side of the road. She wanted to matter to a foster family for once instead of being carted around every few months with no real indication if she could even call the place home for the time being. </p><p>She just wanted to matter. To someone. Anyone.</p><p>But mostly to him.</p><p>He was the first person that she truly felt that kind of affection from. He would call her to talk when she was giving one-word answers over text, letting her rant about whatever was on her mind while he listened to every word, chiming in when she needed him to. He would show up at her doorstep with soup and fluids at the mention of her feeling off, setting her up on her couch with Netflix turned on to her comfort show. It was the little things that he did that made her feel special and loved. It was how she knew he cared about her and that she mattered to him.</p><p>Good things aren’t forever though. </p><p>“Ben, I’m happy for you. You’ve moved on. It’s fine.”</p><p>“What makes you think I’ve moved on?” he questioned, turning his body to face her. </p><p>“Well, you two were laughing and you were looking at her like–”</p><p>“Like, what Rey?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit. Tell me the truth.”</p><p>“Ben, I–”</p><p>“Rey, stop fighting m–”</p><p>“You were looking at her like you used to look at me!” she exclaimed loudly, a cold silence washing over the pair with her admission. </p><p>She should have felt better, telling the truth and all. But somehow, saying the words out loud made it even worse. He was looking at someone the same way he used to look at her. She didn’t matter, she wasn’t special. Especially not to him. Maybe she never had mattered. Maybe it had all been in her head. Maybe–</p><p>“Rey, that was Rose,” Ben stated, breaking the silence.</p><p>“Rose… as in your friend since childhood Rose?”</p><p>“That’s the one.”</p><p>A wave of embarrassment washed over her. They had talked about her on numerous occasions when Rey was trying to understand more about his past, about the people he associated himself with. He regretted not being as close with her anymore, but like Rey, she wasn’t a fan of his current work predicament. They had drifted in and out of each other’s lives on occasion, he knew that she would still be there for him if he needed it, much like he would still be there for her. </p><p>She probably would have loved the girl if they had ever met. Rose seemed like the type of person who didn’t put up with bullshit. She was probably the kick-in-the-butt that Rey needed, honestly. Maybe she’d tell her to get over Ben, find someone without so much damage. Or maybe she’d side with Ben, remind her that she didn’t understand what family meant, what they were supposed to be for one another since she never had one. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah, oh.”</p><p>That should have been the end of that. She was his friend, they were just catching up. No big deal.</p><p>But that nagging negativity crept in that she just couldn’t silence. Were they a thing? Had there always been feelings between them? Not just feelings shared between close friends, but romantic feelings? It made sense, they had always been close. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume, was it?</p><p>“So, there isn’t… like… you know,” she stuttered.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Like… feelings or anything. Between you and Rose, I mean.”</p><p>He was shocked, to say the least. “What? No. I mean, I love Rose, don’t get me wrong. But I love her like a sibling, Rey. I swear.”</p><p>She nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, it’s not a big—”</p><p>“Stop saying it’s not a big deal. It obviously means something to you if you’re asking about it.”</p><p>She sighed. “It shouldn’t matter, though.”</p><p>“But it does?” he asked softly. </p><p>“Yeah. It does.”</p><p>He nodded in response. “Just so you know, Rey, there isn’t anyone else. There hasn’t been anyone else since you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Can I ask again why you were over by my place last night? Before the drunk texts and all that?”</p><p>“What did I say anyways?”</p><p>“You’re avoiding the question.”</p><p>“I’ll answer, I swear. Just… can you tell me?”</p><p>He sighed, reaching over to grab his phone.</p><p>“Here. How about you read for yourself.”</p><p>She took his phone from him. It was already unlocked, displaying her rather gruesome use of the English language. How anyone could even decipher what she was intending to say was beyond her, but somehow she knew. The truest message was the clearest of all. <em> I still miss you. </em></p><p>There was no way to take it back. He’d seen it. Besides, how did that saying go again? <em> A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts. </em>Drunk her was right. Even sober her couldn’t disagree that it was nice to have him here, to wake up in his arms again and for a brief moment, have that warm feeling of love and comfort again. Because no matter how much time has passed, no matter how much she had said she didn’t need him or love in her life, she did miss him. </p><p>But it was his response that made her pause. She had no recollection of these messages. Maybe she hadn’t even looked at them, considering the state she must have been in if she couldn’t remember him coming to her rescue in the first place. </p><p>Six messages. Six messages in the span of a few minutes. All because of a stupid drunk text.</p><p>He said he missed her too. He wanted to know if she was okay.</p><p>
  <em> He still cared about her. </em>
</p><p>She handed him back his phone, mumbling a quick thanks as he locked it, placing it back on the nightstand before giving her his full attention once again.</p><p>“Better?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Now, why were you in my neighborhood last night?”</p><p>She sighed. “I wanted to talk.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“About… us, I guess. I just feel—”</p><p>“Empty?”</p><p>“Yeah. That’s a good way of putting it,” she said, gnawing at her bottom lip. “These past few weeks have just been… a lot to process.”</p><p>He reached forward with both of his hands, clasping one of hers in between. “I know. I feel it too.”</p><p>She smiled softly at their entwined hands. </p><p>“I just… I feel like I’ve had time to think about everything. And I know I was wrong, about everything with your uncle and I just… I needed to apologize for that. For everything, really.”</p><p>He nodded. “Is that it?”</p><p>“Well… I guess not all.”</p><p>“You can tell me, Rey. I won’t judge.”</p><p>She sighed, closing her eyes to tamp down the emotions that were threatening to breakthrough. She could do this. No matter the outcome, she could do this. </p><p>“I miss you,” she said quietly, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “I spent so many nights trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need love to survive. And while part of that is true to a certain degree, a pep talk from Finn to realize that it’s okay to miss you and everything that we were. </p><p>“Because the truth is, Ben… is that I want you. I <em> want </em>you. I don’t need us to be some fairytale story, or even be an us if that’s not what you want any I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I still want you in my life.”</p><p>She couldn’t look up at him anymore, her eyes darting down to the bedspread. But he didn’t move his hand from her grasp. His thumb rubbed comfortingly along the top, a small gesture but still nice. She didn’t know how long they sat there, how long it took for him to process her admission, but when he spoke, she wasn’t ready for the heartbreak that was about to occur. </p><p>“I shouldn’t have shown up on your doorstep, Rey. All those months ago, I shouldn’t have barged back into your life like that. </p><p>“Ben,” she said, removing her hand from his grasp.</p><p>“Just, let me say what I need to and you can argue with me afterward. Please?”</p><p>She nodded, gathering her legs up to be able to rest her chin on her knee. </p><p>“I know I shouldn’t have shown up out of the blue like I did. It wasn’t fair to you, especially since I was the one to walk away in the first place. But I needed you. I wasn’t living without you. That’s why I came crawling back. But, I hurt you with my selfishness. I shouldn’t have shown up like that.</p><p>“I fucked up. Badly. I loved you so much that I put you on a pedestal. I kept you there because you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. So when you suggested that I try and work on things with Luke, I took it as a betrayal. I held you in such a high regard, but it felt like you didn’t think me worthy of the same. I didn’t know how to deal with that, which is why I stormed off. I thought it would be easier than facing him again. But being without you, it was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. It <em> is </em>worse.</p><p>“The truth is Rey, is that I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I shouldn’t have fought with you over something so stupid, and I think about that moment all the time and what I could have done differently.”</p><p>“But you didn’t think it was stupid at the time?” she interrupted.</p><p>He sighed. “Not in the moment, no. But five minutes later I knew I was in the wrong. I let my insecurities get the best of me, and I projected that onto you. That was wrong of me, and I will never forgive myself for that.”</p><p>He sighed, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. </p><p>“I’m sorry I flipped out on you about my uncle. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your reasons. But most importantly, I’m sorry for ever causing you any pain. That’s never what I wanted.”</p><p>She gazed into his eyes, a lone tear falling down his cheek. She reached up to brush it away.</p><p>“I know. I know you are.”</p><p>“Can you forgive me?”</p><p>He was sad, resigned almost to the idea that she’d say no. It was almost as if he believed that he didn’t deserve her.</p><p>“I already have.”</p><p>She made the first move, scooching over to plant herself in his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulders. She could feel him tense as she settled, not knowing where to place his hands. But after a moment, they wrapped around her frame, holding her tight against him.</p><p>“I miss you so much,” he whispered after a moment, his cheek nuzzling the top of her head. “I haven’t known what to do with myself.”</p><p>“I know,” she whispered. “I felt the same way.”</p><p>They sat like that for a while longer, neither of them wanting to move out of the bubble they’d created. It was peaceful here. All of the hardship they had been through, all of the miscommunication and the pain and heartbreak didn’t matter in their bubble. All that matter was them, <em> together</em>, even if just for this moment. </p><p>“What does this mean? For us?” she asked, pulling away to meet his gaze.</p><p>“What do you want it to mean?”</p><p>“I asked you first.”</p><p>“I know,” he said, a small cheeky smile forming. “I still want to know though.”</p><p>“You. I want you.”</p><p>His smile broadened, his hand coming up to brush a stray hair out of her face. “Good. That’s good.”</p><p>“And what do you want?” she asked.</p><p>He was silent for a moment, his jaw tensing. His eyes were cast down but his arms remained around her, helping to ground him.</p><p>“Do you think we could… I don’t know, start over?” he asked timidly, his eyes coming up to meet hers. </p><p>“No... we can’t start over, Ben.”</p><p>She took a deep breath, watching his face twist with confusion then heartbreak as resignation set in. They were on different pages.</p><p>“Right,” he said, moving her off of him as he made his way out of the bed. “I’ll just… I guess I’ll go, then.”</p><p>“Wait!” she said, hopping out of bed to grab his wrist, turning him back to face her. “Let me say this first before you storm out.”</p><p>He gulped, nodding sullenly at her request.</p><p>“We can’t start over,” she started up again, reaching up to caress his cheek. “We can’t start over because I don’t want to ignore everything we’ve had before. The good and the bad. Especially the bad, because that’s how we’re going to learn and grow as individuals and as a couple. I don’t want to start over, Ben. I want us to pick up where we left off. I want to try again.”</p><p>His gaze came up to meet hers, his hand searching out her own. Their fingers entwined as he smiled down at her, as he looked at her like he used to. He looked at her like he loved her. </p><p>“I’d like that. I’d like that very much,” he said quietly, leaning down to press his forehead with her own. </p><p>“I’m sorry for... giving up so easily. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard, it’s not my place, it’s your family and—”</p><p>“It’s our family,” he interrupted.</p><p>“What?” she gasped, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes.</p><p>“Rey, I was harsh. I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up over it. I know you meant well when you said it. I just… snapped. And I haven’t been able to forget that, because I know I was wrong. But I want everything with you. I don’t want us to be two separate beings who like each other. I want to share my successes with you and my hardships. I want to be there for you when you’re having a rough day. I want to help you succeed in life. I want us to be a unit. I want us to help pull each other up. I want <em> us </em> to be a family. Not just the two of us, but I want you part of my fucked up family, too. I might not have the best relationship with my uncle, and god knows my mother has been on my ass about it too, but I want you to be a part of my family as much as I am. I want it all, Rey. With you.”</p><p>“Are you… proposing to me?”</p><p>“No!” he exclaimed loudly, his panic evident.</p><p>“Oh, um, well…” Rey said, taking her hand back from his grip. “Sorry, I took that the wrong way.”</p><p>“No, it’s not your fault. God, that didn’t come out right,” he sighed loudly, closing his eyes as he fought for control. </p><p>“I’m not proposing today,” he said after a moment. “It’s not the right time. We have a lot to work on, but what I mean is that’s what I want with you. I want it all. So, while this isn’t a marriage proposal right now, it’s a promise to work towards being the man you deserve. I want to be the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, who can easily show his love and devotion to you. I’ve made so many mistakes, and I want to work on being better so that we can be stronger. Together.”</p><p>She sniffled, a rogue tear falling down her cheek. He reached out, his thumb wiping the wetness away.  </p><p>“I want that too,” she whispered, her hand coming up to rest on his neck. “I just want you.”</p><p>He smiles, leaning in to capture her lips with his own. It’s not like the kisses they used to share, the desperate need to feel one another during their broken-up phase. It’s not like the ones they shared when they were together either, though, the early stages of love when you felt your world was impenetrable. </p><p>No, this one is somehow more. More passionate, more raw, more loving than anything they had ever shared before. It’s an apology and a promise all in one. It’s everything to her. <em> This </em>is everything. </p><p>It shouldn’t be a surprise that their clothes have disappeared when they land on the bed, with her straddled over top of him. It shouldn’t be a surprise when his hands grip her hips tightly as she aligns his cock so she can sink down slowly, savoring the feeling of being connected once again before rocking slowly. It shouldn’t be a surprise that they can’t keep their hands off one another, almost as if they both can’t believe that this is real. It shouldn’t be a surprise when his hand drifts up to the back of her head, pulling her down into a heated kiss as she picks up speed.</p><p>“Fuck, I missed you,” he says in between kisses. “So much.”</p><p>“I missed you, too,” she pants, leaning down to start sucking marks into his skin.  </p><p>It’s messy. Not hard and fast like their break-up sex, but not soft and sweet either, yet it somehow still works. Both of them can’t keep their hands off one another. Rey has one hand permanently planted in his hair, something he might not be too happy about after but he doesn't care right about now. Not when he can’t stop himself from kissing her like she’s the best thing that has ever happened to him. Not that she minds that, either. </p><p>“Hold on,” he says, his arms wrapping around her back, pulling her tight against him. </p><p>He flips them over quickly, placing a quick kiss on her forehead before rising up on his elbows, her legs wrapping around his butt to keep him from straying too far as he realigns himself, sinking back in slowly to savor the feeling. </p><p>“Ben, I–”</p><p>“I feel it, too,” he mutters, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek before picking up speed.</p><p>It’s not a dramatic buildup. There is no begging, no cries for more or harder. Because he knows which buttons to press, he knows how to rile her up to get her where he wants her. He just knows.</p><p>The same applies to her, though. A rough tug here, a slow kiss there. She knows him like the back of her hand. She knows what each moan, what each grunt means, and what he needs. She knows just how much he can take before his control slips and he’s barreling towards his orgasm.</p><p>“God, I can’t hold back anymore,” he grunts.</p><p>“Then don’t.”</p><p>He groans as his pace becomes more erratic, one hand snaking down to circle her clit the way he knows will help push her over the edge. Her nails dig into his back, her brain unable to think anything but <em>yes </em>and <em>this </em>and <em>forever </em>while her pleasure climbs. </p><p>“Ben,” she gasps. “I—”</p><p>“I love you, too,” he manages as her walls begin to flutter around him, both of them swept under by the force of their shared orgasm. Their lips crash together, both insistent on pouring out every emotion, every ounce of love that they have for one another in that kiss. Because it’s everything to them, <em> this </em>is everything. Here and now. Together. </p><p>Ben moves way first, both of them gasping for air as they recover. He pulls out of her slowly, moving to lay on his side as she nestles into him, not ready for them to not be touching in some form.</p><p>“God, I love you. So much,” he says, his arms wrapping around her. </p><p>She smiles, turning to place a peck on his cheek. “And I you.”</p><p>He chuckles. “Wasn’t exactly planning on this happening when I ran over here last night.”</p><p>“Are you complaining?”</p><p>“No! Absolutely not. Just… happily surprised, that’s all.”</p><p>She hummed. “Well, maybe a repeat performance is needed. Just to prove that it’s real. That we’re real.”</p><p>“Hmm, maybe later. I don’t plan on leaving here today.”</p><p>“Not even to grab coffee?”</p><p>“Rey, you have a perfectly acceptable coffee maker, that I bought, I might add, sitting on your counter collecting dust.”</p><p>“Yes, but I don’t have any blueberry scones. You know from the cafe–”</p><p>“Over on Fifth St, yes, I know,” he says, rubbing circles on her hip. “I had a hard time going there when we were… you know.”</p><p>She hums. “I haven’t been able to walk in at all.”</p><p>His grip on her hip tightens. “I guess that means we have to get out of bed today, huh?”</p><p>“I guess it does.”</p><p>He nuzzles his nose into her hair, snuggling in closer as if he has no intention of ever moving from this place. “Shower first?”</p><p>She can feel her smile blooming, feeling at peace with them and where things are going. Things weren’t going to be easy from here. They both still had many things to work on, both individually and as a couple. But there was hope. There was a chance at a future between them again, and both of them were ready to tackle their challenges head-on, as long as it meant that they could be with each other for the long haul. </p><p>And while this reconciliation may have started with a drunk text, she knew one thing for sure. </p><p>“Of course. But you’re paying for coffee!”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for sticking with me! This story honestly came to me after listening to How Not To by Dan + Shay a few too many times. Add in Drunk &amp; I Miss You by Jimmie Allen and Mickey Guyton and you can see where my head went with this. Yes, I listen to lots of sad music, but sometimes it works in my muse's favor!</p><p>Find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/happythehardway">twitter</a> for more on my random thoughts and potential future writing ideas!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Catch me on <a href="https://twitter.com/happythehardway">twitter</a> for writing updates and random shenanigans.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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